


Initiated

by HufflepuffChildOfApollo



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Book 6: Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince, Dark Magic, Dark Mark (Harry Potter), Death Eater Initiation, Evil Voldemort (Harry Potter), Gen, Light Angst, Pain, is he ever not evil?, like duh
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-07
Updated: 2019-04-07
Packaged: 2020-01-05 10:27:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,682
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18364169
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HufflepuffChildOfApollo/pseuds/HufflepuffChildOfApollo
Summary: Draco Malfoy is about to receive an honor like no other.





	Initiated

Draco took several deep breaths as he stood behind the oak doors, waiting for them to open. He clenched and unclenched his fists anxiously, tapping his foot on the floor. He could hardly contain his excitement; he, at sixteen years old, was to be the youngest Death Eater in history. He only hoped that it didn't hurt too badly getting the Mark. He nearly jumped when the door swung open and his aunt appeared, dragging him into the drawing room. 

Draco followed Bellatrix across the long, empty, dimly lit room. His mother stood at the far end of the room, and beside her, in an ornately carved chair, sat the Dark Lord himself. 

The Dark Lord smiled, an unpleasant look, but Draco followed Bellatrix forward anyways, copying her low, sweeping bow to the Dark Lord, although Draco didn't kiss his feet like Bellatrix did. He rose when the Dark Lord commanded, and stood still as the Dark Lord's snakelike red eyes swept over him, appraising him for quite some time. 

 "Bellatrix," the Dark Lord finally said. "You believe the boy is worthy of taking my Mark?"

 Bellatrix's eyes widened, and she dropped into a curtsy, her curly hair grazing the floor as she bowed her head. "Yes, my Lord." 

The Dark Lord smiled a thin-lipped smile, looking to Draco's mother, who stood stock-still, her face unreadable as she watched the proceedings. Draco stood a little straighter when he noticed her look at him. 

 _You'll be proud of me, Mother,_ he thought.  _I'll bring us back into the Dark Lord's good graces. You'll be proud to be a Malfoy again._

"Narcissa, you also believe that your son is worthy of the Mark?"

 Draco's mother continued staring straight ahead, nodding her head stiffly in answer. 

 "Yes, my Lord."

Draco tried not to smile at his mother's words. Instead he faced forward, biting the inside of his cheek and clenching his fists. He was almost shaking with anticipation. 

 "Very well," the Dark Lord said. "Any objections?" He looked around the room, and smiled, his white, slightly pointed teeth showing. "No?" 

 Draco swallowed hard when the Dark Lord looked at him, beckoning him forward. Bellatrix gave him a sharp prod in the ribs with her wand, and he winced. 

 "Draco Malfoy. Son of Lucius Malfoy," the Dark Lord began, and Draco felt a stinging sense of shame at the reminder of his father's failure. But it quickly evaporated when the Dark Lord beckoned him forward. 

"Extend your left arm Draco," the Dark Lord said, drawing his wand. Draco nodded, rolling up his sleeve, and raised his arm, holding his hand out palm-up towards the Dark Lord.

 "Draw your wand as well." Draco obeyed, pressing the tip of his own wand to his chest. He lowered his head, awaiting his next instructions. The Dark Lord pressed the end of his own wand against Draco's forearm, beckoning Bellatrix forward. Draco glanced at Bellatrix for a moment, his eyes widening a fraction; His aunt rarely partook in activities that didn't involve inflicting pain on others. 

 "Your knife, Bellatrix." Bellatrix nodded, grinning, and drew her silver dagger from the sheath on her belt. The blade glistened in the dim light from the fireplace, and it had a strange scent when she brought it near his face, like..

Draco suppressed a gasp.  _Snake venom._ He recognized its scent from using it in Potions class.  He glanced at his mother, who was staring at the opposite wall, not seeming to notice the goings-on — Or maybe not wanting to. 

 "Relax, sweetie." Bellatrix's breath tickled his ear as she whispered the words, her knife trailing across his forearm in lazy circles, barely grazing the skin. He forced himself to relax. "Very good. Now, remember what to say." 

 Draco nodded slightly. He and Bellatrix had spent much of the previous day reciting the Death Eater Oath until he knew it by heart. Ignoring the slight sting as a drop of venom landed on his arm, sizzling as it touched his skin. He raised his head, making eye contact with the Dark Lord, and spoke:

"I, Draco Lucius Malfoy, son of Lucius Malfoy, son of Abraxus Malfoy, son of..." 

He recited his lineage as far back as could be traced in the history books, and farther still, until he reached the end of the line. It was easy, as all Malfoys were taught their lineage as soon as they could speak, and were expected to have it memorized by the age of seven.

"..son of Armand Malfoy, do swear to remain loyal and faithful to the Dark Lord Voldemort, and carry out whatever deeds the Dark Lord orders, and fully accept any punishment he wishes to bestow, shall I fail in my task." Draco could feel a steady pulse emanating from the end of his wand, which was still pointed at his chest. Relieved, he continued. 

"If in any way the Dark Lord finds me unfit to serve any longer for any reason, I shall accept without question whatever fate he chooses for me; Henceforth, my soul is His, my life is His, and my magic is His to use as he wishes, indefinitely, and until my life is spent."

Bellatrix was tracing the tip of her knife over his arm now, the venom on the blade stinging the delicate skin. The Dark Lord was still pressing the tip of his wand into the skin of Draco's wrist, his blood-colored eyes staring coldly into Draco's own. Draco didn't dare look away, even when Bellatrix dug her blade into his arm, drawing blood, nor when she continued to cut into his skin, carving in a shape that Draco knew was the same as the brand that rested on her own arm, and his father's. 

 "I, Draco Malfoy, son of Lucius Malfoy, heir to the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black, and to the Ancient Family Malfoy, pledge myself and my soul to the Dark Lord unconditionally," he finished, kneeling on the floor with his arm still extended, lowering his gaze to the floor. By then Bellatrix had finished carving, and dark blood, mingling with snake venom, ran down his arm and dripped onto the polished wood floor. 

Draco saw out of the corner of his eye as the Dark Lord waved a hand, and Bellatrix backed away, bowing deeply before walking to where Draco's mother stood. The heels of Bellatrix's boots made a deep  _thud_ with each step. Draco tried to focus on the sound instead of the pain in his arm. Just as the pain began to fade, a white-hot wand tip was thrust into the deepest part of the wound, and the Dark Lord cried out, " _Morsmordre Fervus!"_

The pain from the knife was nothing compared to this. It felt as though he were being skinned alive. Flames leapt up, running along the length of the carved-out, bleeding flesh on his arm. Draco bit down on the inside of his cheek, fighting back the scream building inside him, and tasted blood. He could hear Bellatrix giggling gleefully, stomping one foot the way she usually did whenever a prisoner was brought in for questioning, and the comparison made Draco's stomach turn. 

Finally, the Dark Lord jerked his wand to the side, and the flames were quenched. Draco dropped his wand, which had still been steadily pulsing against his chest, and got to his feet, blinking back tears that were obscuring his vision. He slowly breathed, in and out, until he had stopped shaking. He then knelt down again, his face turned upward toward the Dark Lord. 

 "Permission to speak, my Lord?" he asked, feeling blood drip down his chin from his bleeding mouth. When the Dark Lord nodded, Draco lowered his head. "My mission, my Lord?" 

The Dark Lord seemed to consider for a moment, although Draco knew he had already chosen Draco's mission; He had heard his mother whispering to Bellatrix, begging her to speak to the Dark Lord about having it changed, saying it was suicide. Draco had some idea of what it might be already. 

"You will find a way for my Death Eaters to enter Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry," the Dark Lord began, and Draco's eyes widened. That had not been at all what he expected. He quickly regained his composure. 

"Yes, my Lord." 

"And..." Voldemort smiled unpleasantly. "You will kill Albus Dumbledore before the end of this coming school year."

 Draco's eyes widened yet again. He nodded quickly. "Yes, my Lord. I will. I will not fail." 

 "No, you will not. And to be sure of your success..." Another unpleasant smile. "If you fail, Draco, your mother, your father and yourself shall face the consequences, and you will receive the sentence you yourself failed to carry out." Draco swallowed hard. 

"Yes, my Lord. I promise, I won't fail." 

"Very good." The Dark Lord smiled once more and stood, sweeping out of the drawing room with his dark robes flowing around him. As soon as he had left, Narcissa hurried forward, pulling Draco to his feet. Draco brushed her off, insisting he was fine, and strode off toward his room. Once there, he tossed away his bloodstained cloak, which had concealed his arm from his sight. Now, with it gone, he could see the Mark in all its gruesome glory. 

The skull-and-snake emblem stood out in a dark, blackish against the surrounding skin, which was red and irritated. Blisters had appeared around the edges, where the skin had been burned. Blackish blood had dried in long trails over his arm, leaving burn marks from the snake venom on Bellatrix's blade. The sight was enough to make him want to gag. Yet Draco couldn't help but feel pride in himself as he stripped off his bloody robes and washed the residue off his skin. 

 _I_ will not  _fail,_ he thought as he climbed into bed, a bandage wrapped around his maimed arm. He would be unable to use it for some time until he healed. _It was worth it,_ he thought, closing his eyes and drifting into a restless sleep. 


End file.
